


Union

by Katherine Gilbert (LFN_Archivist)



Series: Divided Souls [2]
Category: La Femme Nikita
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-19 03:34:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19348663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LFN_Archivist/pseuds/Katherine%20Gilbert
Summary: This story was originally posted to the LFN Storyboard Archives by Katherine Gilbert.





	Union

Crying isn't always cathartic. While it had--fortunately--led Nikita into sleep, she had found no real escape there from her despair. Her misery, instead, simply continued to feed on itself, until she felt as though she were sinking into the abyss. She wasn't really dreaming; it was more like she was floating through all of her most negative and depressing emotions. 

There had been what seemed like a couple of hours of this before she really felt images begin to form in her mind. It started when she heard music; it took her awhile to focus on it, though--to be drawn out of her spiral of despair. Once she did, however, she realized that it was the same song that she and Michael had danced to earlier; concentrating in on it a bit more, she understood that it was coming from her living room. 

Still sleeping, she thought that she opened her eyes to find herself in her bed--still in the robe she had put on earlier, the one she had given Michael to wear the other day. Everything around her seemed normal, except for that music --and a light in her living room. She rolled over and got out of her bed to investigate. 

That was when she saw him--standing in the middle of that room; he was wearing the black tank top and pants he had worn the night before. She stopped at the glass wall to her bedroom and stared out at him. 

Michael smiled warmly up at her, and she knew immediately that this wasn't his Section persona. When she didn't come down to him, he held out his hand, inviting her to dance; Nikita was still frozen, one hand up against the glass as if to touch him long-distance. He watched her lovingly and mouthed, "Please." 

She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against that transparent barrier, her hand still to it; she was crying. She opened her eyes again and saw that he had gone. She wasn't surprised; why would he want her, anyway? 

She jumped slightly when a gentle hand ran down the sleeve of her robe; she turned quickly to look into his tender eyes. "Why wouldn't you come down to me?" He was stroking her arm delicately. 

She still had tears in her eyes; she shook her head, trying to explain. "You don't want me. . . . You couldn't." She looked despairing. "I destroyed you today." 

His other hand ran over her hair. "I've destroyed you hundreds of times. Once doesn't really compare." 

Nikita stiffened a little, staring deep into his eyes. "I thought you didn't remember." 

He cupped her face and began stroking her cheek. "I do, here." "`Here'?" She was confused. 

He smiled again. "It's your apartment, and it isn't; it's a dream, and it's not. . . . It's somewhere inbetween." 

"How did we get here?" 

He shrugged. "I think part of us always is." He looked away slightly, as he tried to explain. "We get pulled together because of who we are." 

She shook her head. "I don't understand." 

He refocused on her. "I don't either, entirely." He smiled. "I just know that we're connected. We can't be separated; we're parts of a whole." 

She reached up to gently stroke the wrist of the hand which was cupping her face, partly to keep him from pulling away after her next words. "You would think a whole would function better than the two of us do." She smiled slightly. 

He returned the smile. "You would," he agreed. "But maybe it's that we hurt each other when we try to pull away--when we try to live in isolation from one another." He paused, looking deeply in her eyes. "It's only then that I really want to die," he whispered. 

His words disarmed her completely. "Michael," she breathed. She opened her arms to embrace him, leaning into him--her head resting on his shoulder. She needed to be in his arms, had to feel his love surrounding her; she was crying again. 

He held her very close--tenderly, resting his cheek on her head, stroking her hair. "Ssh, `Kita. No one will harm you tonight." He sighed and kissed her head. "Not even me." 

She was crying harder now, holding him even closer. "Michael, I'm sorry." 

He blinked and gently pulled her back from him, so he could look in her eyes. "For what?" He was confused. 

She wiped away some of her tears with the heel of her hand. "For betraying you today--for trapping you back inside yourself." 

He smiled and wiped her tears away with his thumb, cupping her face. "You did what you needed to, `Kita. We need to be together." 

She shook her head slightly. "That's not good enough." She swallowed back tears. "I forced you to continue a life you never wanted." 

He smiled again. "I've done the same with you." She almost objected, but he shook his head. "We both have a lot to answer for, `Kita; we'll have even more, before we're through, . . . but I brought you into this life to begin with. I made you a killer. If you want to add up moral failings, I'm way ahead of you." He was whispering; his thumb stroked her cheek. 

"But . . ." She couldn't put together the words she needed. 

He continued smiling at her. "That's one of the many things I love about you, Nikita--you're never satisfied with convenient answers; you always look deeper." He cupped her other cheek, as well. "Sometimes, though, we just have to accept that we don't have the answers yet. . . . Maybe we will someday." 

"And if we never do?" 

He half-smiled. "Then, we'll just have to keep waiting--together." He leaned in to delicately kiss her temple. 

She took in her breath at his touch. "So, you're not angry with me?" 

He leaned back to look at her. "I have no reason to be." 

She smiled thankfully at him. 

"Now, we never did finish our dance." He let go of her face and held up his arms in a dance position, waiting for her. 

She took his offer, smiling slightly, and they began to move slowly. The music had continued playing that single song. 

They swayed very gently together. She closed her eyes for a second before refocusing on him. "It wasn't that I didn't want to dance with you earlier . . .," she started to tell him. 

He smiled at her. "You don't need to explain. I know." 

She smiled back at him. He took her hand and brought it to rest over his heart. 

Her eyes widened suddenly--a little afraid; she looked at him for a second before closing her eyes. They stopped dancing. 

She could feel it; she was being washed over with powerful, deep emotions--*his* emotions. They flowed out from him, through her hand, and into her soul. Feelings of love, friendship, tenderness, erotic desire--of a bond—a connection more powerful than anything she had experienced before--it all flowed through her. . . . *She* was the center of those emotions; everything gentle and good in him revolved around her. She opened tear-filled eyes to look at him. 

"I know. I feel yours too," he whispered, looking deep into her eyes. 

"Michael," she breathed. 

He smiled lovingly, his thumb stroking the hand he held over his heart. "You have no idea how beautiful you are, `Kita. The light of your soul is overwhelming." 

A few tears escaped her eyes. "I love you." 

He kissed her cheek tenderly. "I know," he whispered. He looked at her again. "I feel it flow through me." 

She smiled and leaned forward to embrace him. They began dancing once more, their arms around each other--their heads on one another's shoulders. 

The emotion of it was almost too much, but she knew--this time--that she didn't need to run from it; she wasn't going to destroy him. In fact, she could feel his real emotion. . . . He felt as though she were creating him. 

This Michael was her equal, was part of her soul; neither of them wanted or tried to dominate the relationship. "I don't want to leave here." 

He raised his head to kiss her ear and then rested back on her shoulder. "Part of us never does." 

She swallowed. "And the rest?" 

He sighed and held her closer. "The rest gets corrupted--by Section, by our fears, . . . by my injuries to you, but it's always this we feel. That's why all the separations of body and spirit hurt us so deeply." 

She could feel his regret, his sorrow at his actions; she started crying again and held him closer. "Don't leave me." 

"Ssh," he soothed, gently stroking her back. "Close your eyes. Feel the connection." 

She did. It was almost overpowering. They stopped dancing, as she clung to him. "Michael." 

"Do you ever really think I could leave you?" He was holding the back of her head, kissing her temple. 

She kept her eyes closed to feel their bond. "No," she admitted. 

He stroked her hair tenderly; he was whispering in her ear. "The Section part of me--the monster might hurt you, Nikita. I try to stop it, but I don't succeed most of the time. . . . Remember this, though. Even if you can't see it--however well he hides it, there is a part of him . . . me . . . who always loves you, . . . and *I* will never hurt you." 

"Michael." 

"I'm here, Nikita," he whispered. "Whether you can see me or not, I'm always here." 

In some part of her, she had always known this. She had a tendency, however --understandably, to forget it when Michael hurt her--had a tendency to believe the lie he wore to protect himself--that his Section persona was all there was to him. 

The times, in fact, that she had known most powerfully that this Michael was real was when they had made love. Even through the need and desperation Michael usually showed her at those times, she always felt the warmth of his love, sensed the light in his soul reaching out to her. 

She needed to feel the deeper intimacy of their connection; she looked back at him, stroking her fingertips along his cheek. "Make love to me, Michael." 

He shook his head slightly and leaned forward to kiss her, offering his lips to hers. She was confused by the first part of his reaction but happily joined in the offered kiss. He stroked the side of her face, as they lost themselves in a deep, soft, erotic kiss, their tongues stroking gently over each other's. 

After quite a while, he pulled back from it reluctantly, still stroking her cheek. "I won't make love *to* you, Nikita, . . . but I want, very much, to make love *with* you." 

Her eyes filled with tears again, as she spoke. "I love you, Michael." 

He smiled. "I still exist because of you, `Kita. Without you, there would only be the Section shell of me left." He leaned forward to kiss her temple, then whispered in her ear. "I love you, Nikita, body and soul." 

************ 

She trembled, his words--his emotions--arousing her to the depths of her soul. He looked back at her, and they leaned in to share in a series of light kisses, until their lips continued to meet, while they lightly stroked the tips of their tongues together. A few seconds later, they both raised their hands to cradle the backs of each other's heads, pressing one another into a deeper kiss. 

Nikita realized suddenly that she was crying again, but she wouldn't break away. The moment was intense--the exquisitely erotic kiss mingling with the flow of emotions between them. She brought her other hand up to run in his hair, holding him to her. 

After another minute or so, the kiss finally broke, and they paused, lips still close; neither one noticed that the music had stopped. They opened their eyes and looked at each other. Nikita heard a sob she knew was hers; he was so beautiful, and there was so much love in his eyes--love which she could feel was hers alone. He smiled, and they leaned again into another deep, soulful, arousing kiss. 

Their hands began to roam down one another's backs. Nikita felt the lines of his muscles and ran her fingers down his sides. He sighed through the kiss and leaned further into it, his lips and tongue worshipping hers. She pulled his tank top free of his pants and let her hand slide under it to feel the skin of his back. One hand ran up between them to work its way up his chest, under his shirt; her fingertips found his nipple, and she began stroking it in circles--teasing it into further erection. 

He groaned through the kiss, and she leaned back from it to pull off his shirt, dropping it to the floor. She kept eye contact, as her hands stroked his nipples, running occasionally over the lines of his chest. He watched her with awe and devotion, closing his eyes and sighing, from time to time, at her touch. She left a thumb to continue teasing one aroused bud, while she drew his head forward with the other hand to join in another kiss; he held her to him. 

She pulled back a minute later to kiss from his temple to his ear, playing with the lobe with her tongue. "`Kita," he sighed. She kissed from behind it down his neck very lightly, to his gasp, and then ran a line over his shoulder and collarbone with her tongue; Michael groaned. 

Nikita proceeded to kiss the pulse at the base of his throat and felt it racing before running a series of nipping kisses up to the underside. "`Kita," he breathed again. She then trailed a series of small licks and kisses down the other side of his neck, till she ran a line along his collarbone with the tip of her tongue. 

Michael's hands stroked over the lines of her back, as he closed his eyes, lost to her ministrations. She kissed his shoulder and then kissed her way down to the nipple her thumb had been teasing; her hands ran to his back, holding him to her, as she lightly touched her tongue to the tip. "Yes," Michael moaned. She circled her tongue around it several times before suckling him. He groaned and held her head lightly to him. 

After another minute, one of her hands ran down to stroke his hard length through his pants, as she licked up his breastbone and then began to suckle his other nipple; her hand explored his full length in long strokes before squeezing him gently. He throbbed in her touch. 

Michael was crying slightly now--his love and desire overwhelming him; she could sense every emotion she created in him, and they made her love him even more. She stopped stroking him, unfastened his pants, and gently pushed them down, along with his briefs. He stepped out of them and drew her back up for a deep, thankful kiss. 

Her hand went back to caressing his length--running light circles around the tip with her fingers before stroking down the back to the base and slightly beyond. She then closed her hand around him. 

He groaned and caught her hand to draw it up. Leaning back from her lightly--his heated, loving eyes on her--he kissed her palm and then reached for the belt of her robe--untying it; never breaking eye contact, he pushed it off her shoulders. 

He ran his thumbs over her collarbones before beginning to trace them lightly p the sides of her neck. She closed her eyes. "I dream of you, when we're apart," he said softly. She opened her eyes again to be caught in his soft gaze. "The memory of being with you keeps me alive," he was stroking her face with both hands, "and torments me unspeakably." 

"Michael," she mouthed, and he leaned in to touch his lips to hers in a light, delicate, sensual kiss. 

He pulled back just slightly, lips still near hers, locking eyes. "I love you, Nikita." Then he kissed over her cheek and down her jawline to her neck. He traced a series of wet, soft kisses down the side of it, while her hands came up to hold his shoulders; he ran a line, once, back and forth along her collarbone with the tip of his tongue, then traced his kisses up her throat and over her jawline to behind her ear. 

He caught and suckled at the lobe, while his hands ran down her sides, over her abdomen and back up her center, before outlining the curves of her breasts, his thumbs stroking the erect nipples. Nikita moaned, and he lightly kissed back down the side of her neck to her collarbone and then ran a series of kisses down between her breasts. "Michael," she sighed. 

He continued downward to her abdomen before running his tongue over her hipbone. He kissed his way back up to one of her nipples, kissing softly around it, as she groaned, then ran his lips and tongue down over it, coming back up to just release it, before beginning to suckle her softly, his arms around her. 

Her hands were in his hair, as she caressed him close to her. "Oh, Michael," she breathed, before she kissed the top of his head, holding hers close to it, eyes closed. 

After a few more minutes, Michael ceased his ministrations to that breast. He leaned up to kiss her, quickly and softly, before beginning to suckle the other. 

Nikita moaned and held him close, her cheek on his head, as a lone tear ran down it to land on him. He held her closer, to her whimper of delight, before suckling her more deeply. 

After another few minutes, he kissed his way up her neck to her lips, before holding her in a deep kiss with both his hands. 

They broke the kiss and looked at each other. They didn't need any words; they walked the few steps to the bed, and he pulled back the covers. She crawled onto it and turned to him, holding out her hand; he took it and followed her. 

They were kneeling, face to face, watching each other's eyes, as their hands roamed lightly over one another's bodies. His hand ran down her center to stroke between her legs; her eyes closed, and he held his other hand to her back, as she leaned into it slightly. 

Slowly, he parted and drew two fingers into her; her breath caught. "Yes," she whispered. His fingers explored her tenderly--finding all of her most delicate spots and gently exploiting the sensations they gave her, while his thumb stroked her bud; her nails dug lightly into his shoulders in response. 

After several minutes of her moans to his erotic explorations, she opened her eyes to look at him. "Michael," she begged; she needed him. 

He understood and withdrew his hand, running both of them back to hold her hips lightly, as she spread her legs further. He lowered himself slightly—his eyes never leaving hers, adjusted his hips, and then began to enter her slowly, pushing himself into her, as she lowered herself around him. 

Their union took some time, as he caressed her from behind, sliding in for a while, then withdrawing slightly before pushing further in. Finally, though, he was in her completely. 

He pulled her down to him so that she was sitting on his lap; she wrapped her legs around him. Their bodies were molded--created just for each other. 

They closed their eyes, revelling in their union--both physical and spiritual; their love for one another flowed through them--binding them. Their foreheads leaned against each other, as their hands ran over one another's backs. 

Michael opened his eyes and kissed her; she responded, and they were soon holding each other in a very deep kiss. They then began a very slow, deep rhythm. 

He kissed his way over to her ear. "The monster never tells you what this means to him," he whispered. He gave her a deeper, slow stroke, while holding her lower back. "You're his breath and his soul; making love with you is the only time he feels whole." 

Nikita held his head closer and kissed down his neck. She then went up to kiss his cheek, moving to his ear. "Michael, I love you." Her breathing was ragged; the sensations he was creating within her were indescribable. "There's not a moment of my life I don't want this kind of union with you." His strokes began going deeper, and she groaned, moving to suck at the skin between his neck and shoulder. 

"Oh God, `Kita, I need you." He changed their position to lie her on her back and began giving her a series of kisses, while stroking up and down one of her walls. 

"Michael," she breathed between kisses. She held his head with both hands. 

He groaned and pulled back to kiss her face. "Let me apologize to you, `Kita. . . for having hurt you . . . for all I've done. Let me make love *to* you." 

"Michael . . . ." She was trying to focus, but he was making rational thought harder to come by. "It wasn't you." He was kissing and licking at her neck. "It was the Section si--. . . oh God." Michael had found a very receptive spot inside her and was stroking it repeatedly; talking was going to be difficult for a while. Her hands clung to his shoulders, as she let out soft moans. 

Michael was kissing further down her body. "No excuses, Nikita. I didn't stop him." She let out a groan which sounded like it might contain a protest. "`Kita . . . please." He licked a line down her breastbone. "No arguments. Just *feel*." His lips encompassed a nipple, and he began suckling. 

Nikita had no choice but to follow his advice. Vibrations of pleasure were shuddering in her from her breast to where he was creating the sweetest tension within her. She was groaning constantly. 

She understood the further message in his advice, though, and she let herself dip into the flood of emotions which coursed through him; he needed this--needed her. His entire soul hung on pleasing her, at this moment. 

She felt his soul reach out to her, and she was flooded with the most complete feeling of love she had ever experienced. It was too much; the combination of the emotions with the sensual overload of Michael's lovemaking overwhelmed her. She cried out, as the sensation caught her; she was groaning and sobbing, as it overpowered her completely. Michael looked back up at her and watched her lovingly. He felt her response--not only in the way she tightened and seemed to ripple around him, tempting him to lose control, but also through their bond; her love and light flowed through him--making him whole. He stroked her hair back from her beautiful face, which reflected her incredible pleasure, and waited for her to come down, wishing she didn't have to; she deserved a life of ecstasy. 

************ 

Nikita came back to her senses quite some time later and looked up into the eyes of the man she loved. He was still pulsing within her, keeping them united. "Please, Michael . . . kiss me," she begged. He did--lightly tracing her lips with his tongue, before she captured his mouth and kissed him back deeply. 

After a minute or so, she pulled back from it and then began to sit up with him before pushing him over onto his back. "`Kita?" 

"Ssh, Michael," she soothed. She kissed him very deeply and then began a slow, deep rhythm with him. "Feel," she instructed. She ran her tongue over his chin and down his throat before running nipping kisses over the line between his shoulder and neck. 

"Oh God, `Kita," he moaned, as he returned her strokes. He could feel all her motives, could feel her love for this tender side of him--could sense her joy, as she reveled in his soul. She licked a line down to his nipple and began suckling, while her thumb gently teased its twin; her other hand traced down his side and then under her to stroke his stomach. Michael groaned; his hands ran into her hair to hold her to his heart, as she suckled him. 

His other side had never let Nikita have much control in their lovemaking. The tender Michael was amazed; God, had he ever missed out. It was going to take all of his strength to hold on, until she was ready; her love flowing through him, combined with her sensual talent, was overpowering him. She was a goddess. 

He bent his knees, bringing his legs up behind her, and she sat back, leaning against them, running her hands along his chest and stomach, watching him, as they stroked. 

Nikita wanted to feel even more of his desire, though, while she could sense it, coursing through her. She leaned over on her hands to prop herself above him and raised herself off of him slightly, not enough to lose him, so that he was thrusting his hips up to meet her. 

Oh God, she was maddening. She was working him into a frenzy of need and love. She lowered herself onto him again, as he was thrusting, so that he entered her deeply, and then pulled him up toward her slightly, as she dug her heels into the bed; she held him tilted a bit away from her, ran her tongue down from his shoulder to his nipple, and suckled that hypersensitive bud again. 

"`Kita," he groaned deeply. He couldn't take anymore. He sat up, pulling her from his nipple and caught her in an intensely erotic kiss. She groaned and held him in it. 

He pulled back from it, groaning, after a minute, and caught her head in his hands. "I love you, `Kita." He kissed her briefly, deeply again before refocusing on her. His arms encircled her, one hand cradling her head. "You are my life . . . my soul." His voice was hoarse with emotion; he gave her several brief, passionate kisses. "Without you, I'm dead." His hands stroked her back, as he gave her a deep kiss of intense sensuality and emotion; he was holding her incredibly close. "*Never* forget that." He kissed her again, then stayed close to her face, eyes closed. 

Nikita was reeling. She was shuddering all over from the way he was stroking her, and his kisses were overwhelming her senses. She held him close and sucked a line of skin up his shoulder and neck. She paused near his ear, her breath shuddering in it. "I love you, Michael," she breathed. 

It was at that moment they each felt it. It was as though the part of them which held their emotions had opened, and all of their feelings came rushing forth--all of their love and desire for each other mingling; it wrapped around them, entwined them--bound them to one another with an unbreakable force. . . .It, in itself, was orgasmic. They held each other close, as they shuddered, crying out, drowning in one another's souls--yet being given eternal life by the same act. The intensity of the physical release from themselves--the overpowering pleasure that he felt as her internal muscles rippled around him, pulling him further in—that she felt, as he released himself deep within her--which convulsed their bodies in unquenchable pleasure--combined with the overpowering nature of their spiritual union, brought them together into the whole they always knew they should be. They were released from all earthly bonds and were recreated in a union which nothing mortal could destroy . . . and nothing immortal would want to. It was almost impossible to bear in its beauty. 

They held onto one another, shuddering. It was quite a while before they began to come down. They had yet to move from that intense embrace. 

Several minutes later, they finally manuevered enough to lie down on their sides, facing each other, pulling the covers up over them, as they stared into one another's eyes. While the physical pleasure began to melt away into incredible contentment and relaxation, none of the spiritual union diminished; they were still almost bathed in light. 

They lay there, smiling, watching each other, stroking one another's faces. Finally, though, Nikita looked away. "I don't want to go." 

"We won't . . . not as long as you remember." She didn't make eye contact; he took her hand and put it over his heart. He then placed his own over hers. "Feel it, Nikita. It's real. It's always with us." She looked back at him. "No matter what may happen, no matter what I might do," he looked sad, "you must--on some level--remember. If you do, then we'll never be separated." 

Nikita seemed upset. "I don't want to be without you, Michael. . . . I just . . ." She paused, looking for words. "I just want to be able to love you." 

He smiled at her. "*So do I*. . . . I don't want the monster to hurt you, don't want to see him ignore or diminish you; I *don't want* Section to be part of our lives." He had tears in his eyes. "You have to remember, though—you have to know that I will *never* leave you. There is no earthly power . . .there is nothing in heaven or hell which can keep me from you." He rubbed his fingers in a line just above her heart, feeling her heartbeat. He smiled slightly again. "Even at the times you may want to, you'll never rid yourself of me. I'm always here." He pressed his hand to her heart. She felt it and knew it was true; she drew herself up under his chin and held herself to him. He responded, holding her close. "I love you, Michael. I don't ever want to be without you." 

"I know, `Kita." He kissed the top of her head. "Feel the lines between us.. . . I know." And, for a while, she did too. 

******************************************************************************* 

Nikita woke up to find herself alone . . . but only physically. She still felt him in her heart; he was still there. 

She didn't know exactly how to interpret her dream. Part of her thought she should just discount it as a fantasy her subconscious had created to bring her out of her despair. In some ways, though--whether she accepted it completely or not, she knew it was symbolically true. She and Michael were linked; as much as she would like to deny it, neither was completely whole without the other. 

Nikita pulled the bedclothes over her and snuggled more deeply into them, still feeling his presence. She decided to take her dream as one last gift from the tender man she had spent the last three days with. She smiled, as she fell into an incredibly peaceful sleep. 

Michael woke up in his cubbyhole in the hallway of Medical. He sighed, closing his eyes; his dream had been painful in its beauty. He couldn't believe it was real, though; that went against all of the Section logic he had been carefully taught. Still, so did his love for Nikita, . . . and that was far more real than anything in this building. 

He opened his eyes once more. It didn't matter where the dream had come from; he needed it. He had to keep inside of him a belief in the reality of Nikita's love for him, or he would die. He had no other choice. 

He closed his eyes to rest again, thankful that there was still a man inside of him who could feel. Because of Nikita, both of them would live. . . . He just hoped she realized how much he loved her for that.


End file.
